


Unholy

by Bubblebuttworm



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-23 23:29:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20897906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubblebuttworm/pseuds/Bubblebuttworm
Summary: Ernesto makes his sweet, sweet moves.





	Unholy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PengyChan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PengyChan/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Nuestra Iglesia](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15716262) by [PengyChan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PengyChan/pseuds/PengyChan). 

> I've had permission from both Luna and Pengychan! And amazingly beta read by her. I can't wait to have the honour on meeting her soon! As well as writing with her. 
> 
> This was written before her new chapter was updated so oops

Father John couldn't believe he had allowed the Devil to get the better of him. Ever since that night - but oh, did Father John deserve to be damned. Let the fires of hell rise and lick at his skin for his awful sins.

Father Ernest was standing on the altar reading from the bible, although in hindsight it was just for show. The man had a way with his words regardless, his steps fluid with a gentle movements, almost as if he was floating like some sort of Angel. His hair was gelled back and slick under the warm sunlight cascading through the stained glass windows. 

John pulls at his collar as he disturbs the cross adoring his neck, abruptly stilling his movements as his are drawn to the name of God. All of a sudden, the burning sensation he felt went from bearable to unbearable in a matter seconds, the cross of God was searing and how did it  _ hurt.  _ How did Father John want to yank off the chain, the God he's tried so hard to please, to worship, to see that others saw His light-- only to fall further in the depth of the Devil's claws. John grinds his teeth; he must put up with this. It's his punishment, his punishment from God. 

"Father Juan?"

John's head is snaps up faster than he cam even register who has called him -- it is, it is --

"I asked if you'd like to join me and finish off our prayer?" Father Ernest is asking him, John undoubtedly cringing at the sudden notice of the heads on looking,  _ judging him _ . Father John urges himself to take a step forward towards the stairs, resisting the urge to buckle under the impending weight he feels in his heart as he struggles to keep his head held high, the devious actions he has taken upon himself burned in his mind as Father Ernest's name falls from his lips like - he clears his throat and stands a bit away from the man, hand extending for the bible.

"Y-yes. Yes. I'd like to."

The bible is exchanged and oh, John couldn't look at Father Ernest in those eyes and meet his gaze even if he wanted to. His chocolate, large almond eyes are what pulled him in the first place, his devilish smile - those muscles straining underneath his priesthood clothes.

"...Thank you, everyone. We will see you tomorrow." John closes the bible and the small church slowly has people filtering out to work on their daily jobs. John carefully pute down the bible and is making his way down the steps, wanting to avoid any conversation with Father Ernest - but before he can make it outside- a firm hand is on his shoulder. John lets out a rather undignified gasp, turning on his heels and stepping away from the man that played with his heart, his dreams. 

"Father Juan, I couldn't help but notice how...  _ distracted  _ you were." Had John been staring too much?! Probanlynot, Father Ernest it exaggerating - he kept his eyes to the ground - but even then he would be lying to himself. A shameful act. 

Perhaps it is about time that Father John admits he has overstayed his welcome. Father Ernest is undoubtedly prepared to banish him, much like his family. John is ready for it. He hasn't noticed however the mischievous glint in Father Ernest's eyes.

"I was actually wondering… if you'd like to join my chambers and have a little toast?"

_ What?! _

John's head snaps up like a piston the second time that day - it is almost a miracle he hasn't gotten whiplash with how he strained his neck. Did he just hear correctly?

His heart is thudding loudly in his chest, it is almost too hard to breathe.

"Sorry -- I don't think, I don't think I can--"

Father Ernest's lips are plump and full of blood as they curl, stopping John on his stumbling of words. "I  _ insist _ ! It's not like you do anything with yourself on these fine evenings." Father Ernest is persistent as always, somehow the man manages to get what he wants and John feels almost as if he had been caught red handed.

"Um-! Of course. Your right - as always, Father Ernest." John says hastily. The man cannot possibly know of his devious act last night, his door was locked and if he did know, Father John wouldn't have been given the opportunity to converse in Father Ernest's chambers - but why, why his chambers? He lowers his head to meet the cobbled stone; he walks to the priests chambers in a slow march, ready to be swallowed up by intense guilt. Father Ernest door opens with a slow creak, to peer into his room. 

"Come in, come in."

Father John is pulled into the room by his voice alone, swallowing thickly as Father Ernest closes the door, unaware of the distant click of a lock locking into place. 

"I couldn't help but notice as of lately you've been rather tense... And as your parish priest, it is concerning for me -- what plagues you, my friend?" Father Ernest is asking, standing straight as he watches him, reaching for one of the church's goblets. Walking briskly to the table top with a jug of…  _ wine?! _

A gasp and a furrow of his brows as they pinch together. "Father Ernest! You can't be drinking--"

There was another goblet; John watched intensely as the red beverage swirled around in the cup. "Don't worry, it's church wine --"

"The church's wine?!" Father John shrieks, perhaps a pitch or two higher than usual as he fumes. "You simply can't--"

"Oh, but I can. Let's just say... it can be  _ our _ little secret, ey?" Father Ernest is approaching him now with an extended goblet, full to the brim with the Lord’s wine.

Father John shakily accepts the goblet, all the while glaring at the man who claims to be a man of God. His throat does feel rather parched after the speech, but to be rude to Father Ernest at his offering would imply otherwise. His shoulders fall with loss, slowly bringing the goblet up to his lips.

"Now, back to why we're here." Father Ernest starts as he slums down rather gracefully on his wooden chair, his leg perched on the arm rest with the look of the devil.

This... This was a bad idea.

Father John tries to lower his eyes respectfully, trying not to make it obvious that he was staring at the soft bulge in between his legs, the priesthood clothing just barely hovering above it as he gestures.

"Huh- erm... Right- why... are we here?" John enquiries, his voice going up an octave.  _ Fool. _

"I noticed since last night, you've been awfully  _ tense _ around me. I couldn't help but wonder if I have done something wrong or if.. something is deeply troubling you?" It is as though Father Ernest knew of his awful deeds! John tries to calm his rapid breathing, suddenly feeling very warm. The wine glass in his hand jolts as he clears his throat.  _ Must be the wine. _

"R-really?" John finds himself stuttering, his pale cheeks growing warm in the dim light of the chambers. His eyes following the faint outline of Father Ernest's trousers - his crotch, to be more specific. 

"Sí, sí. Even now." Father Ernest sits like a king, amused, and to be honest... Father Ernest certainly had the looks and the power. Slowly the man stands, a quirk of his upper lip. A peek at his white teeth, his  _ smile.  _

"I know why." Father Ernest is saying. Whatever pigmentation left in John’s skin fades, but the furious blush remains. The temptation to sink to his knees onto the stone floor and beg for forgiveness is simply overwhelming - how does he know?! His door was  _ shut! _

Father John remains rooted to the ground, stifled by fear. John was expecting the worst, but he isn’t prepared for it - he only now realized Father Ernest has stepped closer to him, a breath away as they almost stand chest to chest together. A hand on his shoulder, a hot breath to the soft shell of his ear -  _ when did he get so close?! _ John gasps.

John tries to stagger back, but Father Ernest has a firm hold on him, those strong hands... he almost melts - but he cannot be caught off guard now.  _ He is in danger. _

"How is your back?" The question is so sudden sudden, something John was not expecting at all. His head snaps up, almost giving himself whiplash again. John scrambles for some sort of response. "Urh-  _ urh… _ better…  _ why?"  _ Should have John have even asked?! His skin felt as though it was on fire!

Then, Father Ernest settles down his goblet of wine, his hands rolling up the long sleeves revealing thick, muscled, hairy arms... John watches as another hand rests on his shoulders as Father Ernest moves around to look at his back. What is...? The world swims with colour.

"Always questioning." John can feel Father Ernest's hands trail low, so gentle and yet firm. "I can help... relieve some of that tension of yours." John's heart feels as if has come to a complete stop; confused and filled with doubt, he finally gasps.

"Father Earnest,  _ please _ don't tempt me." He sounds desperate.

"Oh,  _ so... _ A massage is against God's rules now?" Father Ernest is saying, his plump lips brushing the shell of his ear. The goblet of wine is almost slipping past his fingertips. "F-father Ernest--" John stutters his name, can feel his ears  _ burning _ .

"And that is a no. Just a simple… massage ..." 

John closes his eyes, tries to take a shallow breath. He can feel something coil in the pit of his stomach, coming to life. "Father Ernest--" John tries again, almost transfixed by those large, broad hands coaxing his tense muscles, gentle on his healing back.

John bites his lip as Father Ernest soothes his lower back. When it happens, the action is sudden: John feels so relaxed he barely notices as Father Ernest's hand slings around his waist He is mesmerized by those fine, chocolate brown hairs as his hand sinks lower.  _ Where-- _

It is too late to verbalize anything, as he feels those strong hands rest at his crotch, seizing his cock in a grip that has John step back, further against Father Ernest’s chest, in surprise and alarm.

"Shh, shh... don't be so loud…"Father Ernest is grinning from ear ear, an action John can not see as he feels the hardened skin underneath his finger tips.

"This is-  _ a-aagainst-!" _

"This is still a massage, Father Juan. An amigo helping an amigo." Father Ernest's breath is hot and moist; John’s own breathing quickens as he feels those strong hands begin to fondle him. John's eyes squeeze tight- resisting the heavy urge to pull away right there and then. John knows he wanted this, but it is against everything he has ever worked for to save himself.

"T... this isn't like any... m-massage... I've- against -  _ God _ ." John grinds his teeth as if struggling to form some sentences. Father Ernest is relentless.

"Well.. fine." Father Ernest is removing his hand, just like that, barely hovering before the palm of his hand is gone. 

" _ Wa-wait _ !"

That hand stills. Has John actually spoken? His body feels distant as he tries to reason with his logic he has known since childhood. "Aren't you.. why aren't you disgusted? Y.. I'm.. so confused!" Father John exclaims.

"Why would I be disgusted? Because you’re a man?"

Father Ernest sounds so sincere. It is heartwarming, he - he did not expect this at all. John nods. "God.. hates- "

"If I do recall, our God loves  _ all _ . Including me and you. Even murderers. There is no rule as to who and what not to love, is there not?"

John looks down at the holy cross dangling around his neck. Father Ernest isn’t wrong. "Only doubt those who do not want to be with the real you. You shouldn't hide who you want to be."

"This- this goes against what I've been brought up for. Even so, no matter what I do, even now... that desire. I would get it if it was a woman -- I am expected to wait until marriage before I can experience lust..."

Father Ernest hums, the sound sending a shrill down his spine. "But you aren't married. Correct? And, last night..."

John groans with embarrassment. "Merely a mistake-"

"I don't recall my name falling from your lips a mistake, Father Juan." John stills, the world shattering around him, gasping like a fish taken out of water, greedily gulping in the oxygen. 

_ Father Ernest kne _ w what he did last night. "If the grab at his balls was all the less insuring - but this had confirmed it."H-how-did--" John is stammering so much; he can feel Father Ernest's lips brush against the nape of his neck. It sends shivers down his spine, heat pooling in his stomach with an aching need.

"Coincidence. I thought you were at it again with punishing yourself, but I walked into something  _ better... _ " Father Ernest is whispering, his breath so warm.

John isn’t even aware of his hips silently moving for that hand to grab him again, knock some sense into him - he feels the curl of Father Ernest's upper lip. The hand is back, applying that sweet pressure.

"B-b-but..." John stifles a groan, his eyes rolling back in their sockets, his head tipping back into those broad shoulders. John quivers with excitement.

"Oh, my... you’re bigger than I expected you to be." He hears Father Ernest whisper in his ear, that forbidden hand grasping his length as much as it could through the clothing..That a good thing? Or a bad thing? John honestly doesn’t know, his thoughts cut off at the sudden thrill of pleasure and relief, his toes curling in his shoes as that firm hand squeezes.

" _ O-oh _ , F-fu… Father--"

"Please, just call me Ernesto,” says Father Ernest, like John ever could. He hears the man begin to softly hum, idly pulling at the worn belt around his waist.

Father Ernest is pressed close to him; he can feel his shuddering breath, warm and moist, his knees buckling, held secure by those strong and meaty hands.

"Woah there, Juan... Let's settle somewhere more... comfortable, sì?" Father Ernest is suggesting. John’s legs almost feel like jelly as he is led towards the edge of the bed, is gestured to sit down - groaning at the tightness he suddenly feels below his crotch, straining against his trousers.

John can barely breathe, his chest rapidly rising and falling as all the colour goes to his pale cheeks. He must be red as a tomato! He feels ridiculous, feverish and hot. 

John peers down for the first time to see Father Ernest at on knees, and gasps louder than he should have, almost choking. His legs are slowly are pried open. 

"Fa-father--!"

" _ Ernesto _ ." Father Ernest's voice cuts in again. He is stern, sending a thrill down John's spine. Father Ernest is shuffling forward on his knees; John's legs open wide as he sees a look he has never seen in Father Ernest's twinkling eyes before. His heart pounds, is he really going to allow this to happen?! Was there even a second of doubt to refuse?! When.. when will this ever happen again?

John watches as Father Ernest pulls up his cassock and undoes his trousers, the barrier between the soft skin removed. 

Father Ernest watches the bulge with such interest, impressed by how worked up John is by his touch. Ernesto licks at his plump lips and leans forward, kissing those briefs that stop him from reaching his goal.

Ernesto nibbles through the soft, delicate fabric with gentle, measured movements, earning another soft groan and the cutest of trembles. It is almost too irresistible to not scoff - but it could be taken as distaste. That’s not what Ernesto is aiming for as his hands reach forward with eagerness,  _ like he's done this before. _

"May I?" Ernesto asks, a dumb nod following suit. John cannot even trust his own voice, doesn’t dare to speak a whisper as Father Ernest peels down his briefs and trousers with ease. 

The silence is almost deafening. Blood is pounding in his exposed groin, Father Ernest watching as his cock rises to the high point of his belly button. It is already dripping with pre-cum; John gnaws down on his lip in shame.

John isn’t sure what to expect, he cannot imagine - oh, but he has. He knows. His thighs tremble with anticipation, watching as Father Ernest licks his lips and leans forwards, his mouth curling over his teeth as he begins his descent. 

"Hng--" It feels amazing - but the sensation doesn’t last long. Father Ernest's tongue is lapping at his cock with wet strokes, playing with his balls in the other hand. John's stomach coils with intense pleasure, pleasure he doesn’t deserve. Maybe... Maybe this is hell?

That wanton feel of release, so close and yet so far. A bad deed against God's tribulations. His body feels as if it is on  _ fire _ , how he shakes with fear and excitement. This is devious - he’s enjoying this!

John pants feverishly as he watches Father Ernest -- he cannot tear his eyes away from such an erotic sight he has only ever  _ dreamed  _ of. His pink tongue licking at his length, to the tip, not all the way- just enough to have him silently wriggle his hips. John can’t bring himself to say he wants more.  _ Simply cannot.  _

There is a soft chuckle, the hand on his balls suddenly squeezing tightly; John holds his breath- his hands flying to Father Ernest’s styled hair, as if the bed covers were not an option. 

"You've come so far... give yourself some credit," Father Ernest is saying. John can barely hear him through his ringing ears. "I want you to ask for it."

John felt nothing but dread as those words left Father Ernest's lips, a devilish smirk gracing those red, moist lips. "H--huh? Fa- Oh! My-  _ G-God..! _ "

There is a blinding white pain, shuddering and intense as his balls are squeezed tighter. John moans pitifully, arching over Father Ernest's broad form, almost covering him.

"I'm so very flattered you see me that way... but my name is  _ Ernesto _ ." That demanding voice, flirtatious with a drizzle of arrogance that had John's blood boil. 

_ How dare he sound so- _ such disrespectful. For a moment John questions if he is tempted by the devil Lucifer himself, but a gentle caress derails his thoughts. 

If John could see Father Ernest's face, he would see how smug he looks - how proud - for getting under his skin, as his hand returns to fondle him.

That sweet, delicious, warm, hot mouth is down on John again - humming deep with appreciation.  _ Oh. That's why he put up with him. _ Father Ernest is working hard now; John watches through half lidded eyes as his head bobs up and down, down, reaching until his nose begins to brush at his pubic hair.

It feels as if there are demons hovering, leering and ready to drag him down a bottomless bit of pain and agony. Hell for all eternity - the concept has terrified John, but lost in the immense pleasure there is a doubt that maybe all of this would be worth it.

Perhaps, this  _ is _ hell; if so, John is enjoying it. In his trandrum of rapid thoughts, his hand balls into a tight fist in Father Ernest's hair - and man pulls back with a wet  _ pop _ . 

John gives him an incredulous look - one of desperation,  _ why the hell did he stop?!  _ Before his mouth even moves, Father Ernest presses their lips together in a hungry kiss.

Father Ernest withdraws, his large hands nearing the Cross of God, finding the first button, the second,  _ third. _

He finds himself unable to deny him, his lips trembling as his hands fall by his sides, no longer grabbing into those short locks of fine, slick, brown hair. A little tousled, now… it is… almost satisfying to see, to know that John had caused that. It must have taken Father Ernest some time to style it like that. 

Before John knows it, the cassock is off him. He sits on the bed naked, the only thing protecting him - and very little - being the cross around his neck, hanging in the middle of his chest. 

"Your cheeks are so rosy... so  _ pale..."  _ John hears Father Earnest muttering under his breath. He feels shy - so damn shy. What does Father Ernest see in his damned, unholy spirit? Why... Why would he want to do something so fiendish?

John's thoughts are brutally cut short as he feels Father Ernest's firm hand back on him, realizes that his cock went flaccid while he was lost in his thoughts. John groans with abandont, fingers curling in the duvet. 

"Focus on me,  _ on us _ . Why wouldn't God allow love?" Father Ernest is saying, the hand moving in a casual pace. Through the bangs of his hair John can see that Father Ernest is stripping, leaving John to silently watch with eager anticipation. 

John has always wondered what those strong muscles looked like underneath his garments. He almost dares offering help, but decides against it, too shy to even suggest such a thing as the cassock is discarded, revealing toned muscle.

To see Father Ernest topless leaves John almost breathless; he wasn't too sure what to expect… but he’s not disappointed. His eyes roam over to his taut arm muscles, to his soft belly, to his perk brown nipples. He... He really wants to lick them.

"Pretty impressive, no?" Father Ernest is sneering with gratification - his eyebrows wiggling with some sort of seduction. John,  _ again _ , watches as Father Ernest's muscles flex, almost transfixed. The sudden anger he felt begins to slowly bubble away.

Father Ernest's cross also hangs in the centre of his chest, but his eyes cannot keep still as they explore, travelling further down to his waist. Father Ernest takes a step back; John is about to stutter, to ask what was going on, but before he can ask for any clarification Father Ernest begins to unbutton his trousers, no words spoken. John doesn’t even realize he’s been holding his breath for a while. 

John licks at his lips, suddenly dry, and swallows as he stares so, so openly.

Ernesto gazes at John as they stand naked before one another. His cock is shorter than John’s own, but makes up in thickness what it lacks in length. He steps out the clothing pooled at his feet, urging John to rest on his stomach, mindful of the wounds on his abused back.

"E--"

"Shh, shh..." Father Earnest whispers, crawling onto the bed and causing the springs to squeak in protest. Can the bed even hold two full-grown men?

Father John eyes grow wide as Father Ernest straddles him. Those thighs - John had to keep himself from groaning by biting at the pillow.

Ernesto is amazed by how pale Father Juan was, his pale, milky white skin against the red searing welts. Ernesto leans down to pepper his skin with soft kisses, breath hot and moist against his ear. "Lift up your hips, trust me."

Father John strains despite the heavy weight above him, bending his knees so that his rump is in the air. 

"Ah. There we go..." Father Ernest is musing out loud, groping his bum with a gentle hold. If John wasn't so ashamed he was enjoying this, he ask for him to do it harder. 

A sudden smack sends his body jumping, head turning -- "It-t--!!"

"Oh, your ass is so  _ red... _ " Father Ernest hums. John presses his face flush against the pillow, feeling a sudden lightheadedness, a tingling sensation in his chest.

Ernesto watches the pinkness slowly fade from his skin, then spreads his ass cheeks apart and lap at the rim of his hole - thoroughly enjoying those sweet noises Juan seemed unable to hold back.

The desire to run away remains strong in Johns mind, the fear of being caught - doing such rotten acts against the Lords. John grinds his teeth, lips pulled in a tight and firm line as he feels that wicked tongue slither deeper, unsettled by the way his cock jumps with interest.

John's mind riddled with dread, his thoughts become muddied as his hands ball into a death grip on those fine bed sheets - trying to ignore the fact that his body was enjoying this.  _ He is enjoying this. For shame. _

The licking... stops. "You’re so  _ tense. _ Come on, relax a little." That firm, sweet and abominable hand is back on his cock. 

"Where are the hellfires, Juan? God doesn't disapprove of love for all his creations. The only hellfire is your burning skin and how it yearns for my touch..." Father Ernest spoke the honest truth - but his entire existence had been denying him what the foul Devil Lucifer has tempted him with… and here he is now. Granting his wishes.

If losing his family wasn't bad enough, to think of the gut-wrenching disappointment in his father's eyes as he-- a sinful moan falls past his lips as Father Ernest tightens his hold; John can feel that dull nail graze at his weeping cock as pre-cum slowly drizzles onto the bed sheets. 

"S--sorr--" The heat is transparent, a blurred line between his contrasting thoughts. There was another firm, resounding thwack on his bum.

"Don't be sorry, Juan. It makes me all hot and bothered you're enjoying this as much as I am." That voice - that voice again. His face twists against the pillow, his body prickles with goosebumps, hair standing on edge as his toes curl. 

John cannot tell what is going on within that elusive mind of Father Ernest, and lets out a startled yelp when he feels a thick finger intruding his hole.

The insertion is unearthly and strange as that finger sunk deeper,  _ deeper... _ His body seizes up with tension, despite that hand gorging blood in his cock. "Nnh- hurts--"

The fingers abruptly stop, slowly withdrawn from his anus. "Ah. Sorry... I got ahead of myself. My apologies." The bed dips as he sees father Ernest scoop up some… oil with his fingers. He doesn’t have time to question before those thick fingers are at his ass, going in so smoothly this time.

"W-was that---?!" The bottle was baptism oil. He gives a deep, guttural groan, catching himself off guard; he can barely finish his sentence with a breathless gasp as his body shudders. His pupils narrow, seeming to flee from the expanding whites of his eyes.

What... What was that?! 

"Don't you feel it, Juan? If God didn't want this to happen, why did that part of your body react like this...?" 

John could feel a deep, burst of pleasure within him, an itch being scratched- an almost ancient feeling as he silently begs for more with his body, more of that finger hitting that mysterious spot, eyelids fluttering with breathless moans.

"The devil is inside me!" John barely manages to say, his back slicked with sweat. Those thick fingers seem to have him loosening up. The sensation - he never knew. It feels so good, slmost too good as his hips rut against the duvet, his consciousness slowly sinking into fevered muddled up thoughts, like a pool of murky water.

"Such beautiful moans, Juan... it makes me happy that you’re enjoying this so much." Father Ernest is saying, the other hand squeezing. Blood pulsing through his cock, eyes crossing from the intense pleasure, John could barely hear what Father Ernest was saying over his harsh panting. 

"If our God only wanted to make our señoritas feel this good, then why, deep inside, do we have this bundle of nerves that can only be reached?” A second finger, then a third.

"Please- please Ern--" John isn’t even sure what he’s begging for, perhaps it is the sweet release of orgasm or perhaps he wants to feel  _ more _ . He doesn’t know.

What he does know is embarrassment, escalating further and almost out of control as his body only seems made for guilty pleasure. He tries to regain control of himself, and he almost does - until those fingers are withdrawn, and he lets out another gasp as those firm hands grab his ass cheeks, parting them.

Ernesto can’t help but appreciate the slick hole, ready and prepared, twitching as if calling for his cock - oh, Ernesto was ready to accept the call.

"Are you ready for the best bit, Juan?" Ernesto asks. John cannot believe there is something better, and he would rather find out now rather than keep on guessing in a pool of his own sweat. 

"N-ny-yes!"

"Mmmh, good..."

John can feel Father Ernests cock press against his cheeks. His thoughts grow more conflicted -- but it's too late. It is too late. John has already crossed the line, but why - why does Hell feel so good? That is the most concerning part.

There is a prodding stretch, something hot and searing as he can feel Father Ernest rock his hips in a short burst of thrusts.The searing cock sinks in deeper, leaving John gasping for air at the feeling of the thick head - again, more thrusting, the sound of balls smacking against his ass.It feels uncomfortable, without a rhytm.

Is this supposed to feel good? A strange sound comes out of his lips as he is forced more into the bed as the thrusting becomes faster and more vigorous. His hands grasp the bed sheets - he can hear the harsh grunting above him and feel his own cock slowly droop. 

Ernesto notices, observant like a hawk and takes his cock again.

John moans, muscles becoming shaky as he feels a building pressure, slow and intense. 

"Can't have that. It does hurt at the start, considering it's also your first time... it'll feel good soon. That I can promise."

The hand is pumping blood into his cock again; suddenly Father Ernest's cock sinks deep inside him with a groan - did it come from him, or from Father Ernest?

"So... so  _ tight. _ " Ernesto is appreciating how constricting it was, eyes rolling back as he begins to rock again. Profound and swift as his hand jerks Juans cock back to life, leaning over his back to nibble and bite at the shell of his ear, enticed by those gorgeous, lewd sounds… How much more music could he make out of Juan? Hopefully, a whole song.

John can barely think, the pleasure becoming overwhelming- it makes no sense! One minute he feels pain and the next-- his muscles tense suddenly, a rather startling, loud groan coming from the man above him. 

John cannot stop the noises that keep coming, absolutely terrified at the prospect of being caught -- he bites at the pillow, gnawing onto the fabric as Father Ernest now sets a rhythm, intense and fast. He tries to hold onto something - the headboard - saliva dripping out the corner of his mouth as the bed creaks with their combined weight.

The slapping of skin on skin becomes louder, John's balls feel full and ready to burst - cock arched high against his belly button as he writhers against the bed sheets. There is the intense need of release, he could see stars flashing before his eyes as that strange, wild spot within is struck repeatedly. 

"I’m-- I’m-- I’m gunna--!" John struggles to even finish the sentence, a shout escaping his lips as he feels hot liquid spurting out. White cum drizzles onto his pale tummy and the bed sheets below. He can barely hold himself anymore, collapsing on the soiled sheets. He feels Father Ernesto keep going at a rapid pace and, suddenly, a searing, strange sensation of something filling him up. Did he- did he just-?!

"I... I didn't want to do it on your back, in case it soiled the mood," Father Ernest says, avoiding to mention he doesn't want the wounds to become irritated the wounds to become irritated with the salty white cum.

Father Ernest remains inside John until he becomes soft, slowly withdrawing and watching with satisfaction as the cum slowly drizzles out, those pale was cheeks smacked raw with his balls. Seeing the cum go down those delicious and creamy thighs could have Father Ernest hard again - but he is far too out of breath, his muscles coated with a sheen layer of sweat. Instead, he scoops some of the cum on his finger, scooting over to the collapsed man.

"Here, have a try. It's nutritious. Haha." It wasn't much of a laughing matter, but John feels way to blessed out and fuzzy-brained to even snap back, eyes going wide as he stares at the coated finger, curious… curious as to what it tastes like. He didn't even know you could taste it! 

John slowly pulls himself up and pokes his tongue out, giving it a sample taste. It doesn’t taste of much - perhaps he needed to try more of it? And so he does,taking care not to scrap him with his teeth, John sucks on the finger.

That is another scene that could have Father Ernest indulging another round of sex - but he shouldn't push Juan. It was his first time and perhaps the last... or there may be many more to come. They would have to wait and see.

"It's... salty," John says with a blink, withdrawing to collapse on the bed sheets again. "Odd texture..." It is embarrassing how out of breath he is, compared to how Father Ernest has recovered while laying next to him, arms behind his head in a relaxed manner as if he just had a dinner with a king It is almost… almost flattering.

"You get used to it, after awhile."

For awhile John struggles to stay awake, head resting on Father Ernest's chest as he slowly slips in and out of consciousness. For the first time he felt… good about himself - but he knows this will only last so long.

The guilt always follows after heindish acts of the devil.

  
  
  
  



End file.
